


Basement Party

by ThatWolfieWrites



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Blood Kink, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Female Reader, Female-presenting Reader, Knife Kink, Light Bondage, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, mask kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29527818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatWolfieWrites/pseuds/ThatWolfieWrites
Summary: You just want to get out of this stupid trial without being gawked at, but you find yourself in the basement... and at Ghostface's mercy. Will you get out alive?
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Reader, Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 72





	1. Basement Party

The silence of the cornfield bothers you. 

You’re used to the sound of a chainsaw or the ding and dong of a bell. Instead, you’re met with utter silence except the slowly building chug of the generator you’re on. You haven’t seen another person so far and honestly that suits you. You’re a loner and you rather work on a generator alone. You’ve seen enough of the other survivors to know them well. Dwight stares at your tiny titties when you work on a gen together while Jane’s… assets can be distracting even if you are pretty sure you’re straight.. Nea is quiet and nice to work with but she always rolls her eyes every time you look around nervously and David makes too many jokes about shoving you against the generator to make you comfortable.

You get it. 

That's what survivors generally do between trials. They fuck each senseless. Goodie for them. 

You’ve resisted so far. This is only your fourth trial after all and sounds in the night still make you jump. You aren’t a coward but you aren’t sturdy in this place yet, you’re just too nervous. The killers here creep you out and you’ve already been hanging from a meathook too many times to make you feel good about yourself. 

You jump, blowing the gen as a rustle behind you makes you turn. You see black and you dart. They dart after you; you can hear the grass crunching under combat boots. A glance back lets you know it's Ghostface. You’ve seen old Ghostie twice now out of your four trials. He's popular lately and from what the others say, he's the Entity’s darling. He's beloved and cruel and twisted, just as the creature that harvested their souls for fun. 

Before you know it, you’re exposed and his blade digs into the soft skin of your back. His breathing is labored behind the mask and you know he's enjoying this way more than a person should. Some killers are twisted and disgusting, tortured by the Entity till they’re maddened and ready to burst with bloodlust. Ghostface though? Probably just a psychopath.

But you’re getting touched by him. You grunt as he throws you over his shoulder with ease. You snarl and fight and struggle but the hook gets closer and closer. He pops you right up on it, the hook piercing your shoulder easily. You scream and whimper, letting your arms hang at your side. Ghostface looks up at you, tilting his head curiously and his hand runs along your bare calf. 

You kick at him and a breathy laugh rings from under his mask. He touches your calf again and slips back into the corn, out of your sight. You wish you could sigh but any movement sends pain down your arm and torso so you’re still, trying not to whimper until one of your teammates can come and save you. 

You see two of them heading for you while the other one seem to be keeping old Ghostie busy. It's actually Dwight who swings you down off the hook, Jake hot on his heels. They work together to get you as patched up as you’re going to be.

“Whose our fourth?” you ask Dwight, as Jake slips away. He's never been one for company. It's why you’ve always liked him.

“Bill,” he replies, “Now come on, I have Prove Thyself.” 

You follow Dwight, despite knowing your thin wisp of a shirt isn’t going to block his few of your chest. As you keel to a generator, you feel his eyes on you. You try to ignore him, choosing to focus on the generator in front of you. You’re just about to pop it when Dwight screams and you look up to see none other than Ghostface. His drooping scream mask seems to be taunting you as you fall back on your ass, a gasp leaving your lips. 

You scramble back and flee while Dwight gets the hook. But… Ghostface doesn’t bother to come after you. You skittishly pull Dwight from the hook. The two of you work together on the generator, Dwight’s eyes fixed to it this time. You both hear Bill scream and know Jake has him, only for Jake to scream.

“Fuck,” you curse, glancing at their auras. “You go for Bill, I’ll get Jake.” Dwight doesn’t speak but he heads off, under your orders. Jake is further away and you pray that the Entity’s claws stay at bay long enough for you to grab him. There is a scream and you skid to a halt, seeing Dwight’s aura snuggle up to a hook for a second round on it. 

You curse again and hurry towards Jake. If you can save him, you can turn this match around.

He’s in the basement, your least favorite place. You stumble down the steps, nearly tripping as you get to the bottom, only to run straight into Ghostie. He grabs your wrist as you try to spin and run, pulling you until he can grab your other wrist. You scream, you kick, he just pulls you closer, dragging you deeper into the basement even as you dig your heels into the ground. 

“Hey! Let her go!” Jake yells, even as the Entity’s claw swings down on him.

Ghostface’s head turns towards Jake for one moment and he tilts his head, cocking it at Jake as if saying  _ you can’t tell me what to do _ . You grit your teeth and use his distraction as an opportunity to rip your right wrist from his grip. You turn, trying to run but he tugs you back so hard you fall. He wraps his arm around your middle and lifts you up, despite your kicking and screaming. He’s stronger than you think and he drags you past the hook where Jake hangs.

He pushes you to your knees and you whimper as he grabs you, arms bound to your side, his cold blade pushed against your neck. 

“Let her go!” Jake yells again and his bravery isn’t unnoted by you or by your captor. 

It just seems to spur Ghostface on. You feel the knife before you see it, digging into your side, just hard enough to draw blood. You yell, trying to kick Ghostface away from you. Your shirt and bra are ripped from your frame, leaving you topless and cold in the musty basement. 

“Stop!” You cry, trying to swallow a sob. You’ve heard of what some killers ask for in order to be spared. 

“Are you really doing this right here?” Jake yells from the hook and you sob, realizing he's going to be witness to whatever Ghostface plans. 

You feel him press up against your ass and you know that he doesn’t just want to gossip about other killers. You try to squirm away but he just presses harder against you, causing you to fall forward, your face pressing against the cold ground, his hard cock pressed between your thighs. His hand runs up your side, the other pinning your arms against your back. You squirm and cry out as his hand roughly grabs you by the back of the neck. He squeezes and turns you slightly, exposing the weeping cut on your side. 

He leans forward and presses his face against the blood, his clothed dick grinding against your ass. When he glances up at you, the white of the mask is smeared with the red of your blood and he’s breathing harder, clearly excited.

Jake yells wordlessly and you twist yourself to look back at him. He meets your eyes and then screams as the Entity takes him. You’re alone with Ghostface. Terror makes your throat close but you’ve always been tough. You’re not going to go down without a fight.

“Let me go!” You manage to free one of your arms from his grip and you elbow him hard in the chest. He gasps and you scramble forward, to the back of the basement, turning to face him as he straightens. You need to get around him and find the hatch. You’re not sure what will happen if you don’t. You tense and charge forward. 

He’s quick though and tackles you, forcing you to the ground. You yell and scream, thrashing and fighting. You’re not letting him do this to you. Suddenly your arms are behind your back and he's tying your wrists together. You scream but it's over before it can begin. You’re at Ghostface’s mercy. His breathing is erratic as he stands and prods your side with his boot you roll onto your back. Your lip wobbles and fat tears make their way down your face. It only seems to excite him more. 

He straddles you, his knee digging into the flesh of your cut. His fingers grope it, tearing your sensitive skin further, causing you to cry out. Still, you’re forced to watch as he lifts his mask up ever so slightly and inserts his fingers, wet with your blood, into his mouth. He sucks on them as you watch, a wet pop echoing in the basement as he removes them. 

Without warning he moves, leaning back so he can run his tongue up the cut, causing your breathing to hitch. You hiccup, fumbling for the words to beg him to stop. Instead, a stuttered moan leaves your lips. Your face burns and you feel Ghostie’s eyes on you, something like smugness radiating from him. 

His mask is adjusted to cover his face again and there's the tell tale sound of a zipper. His warm cock is laid on your stomach, forcing you to acknowledge it. You look up at the screaming mask, almost comical in how it droops and back down to the dick that has been so proudly presented to you. He moves up your body till the head of his cock is touching your lips. You press them together like a child refusing to eat their dinner and turn your head away.

It seems like Ghostie cares very little for your pride. He grabs your face, working his fingers between your jaws until he's able to pry your mouth open. As soon as your lips part, he rams his dick into your mouth, nearly to the back of your throat. Tears gather in your eyes and you gag. Surprisingly, when he begins to thrust into your mouth, he's a little more gentle than the first time. He still holds your jaw open but his movements are nearly soft, seemingly trying to get you used to his girth. 

Drool drips down your chin and he begins to speed up again, one of his one hand tangled in your hair as he thrusts into your mouth. He throws his head back for a moment, a low groan leaving his mask. Your eyes flick up at him as he looks back down at you. He thrusts harder, his dick filling your throat. His hands dig into your scalp and he groans again, louder this time, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

Before you can refuse or gargle anything around the dick in your throat, you feel his cum starting to fill your mouth.ts swallow or choke on it. You choose to swallow. 

He rips his softening dick from your mouth with what you can only describe as a happy sigh. He stands, tucking his dick back into his pants, leaving you bound and bleeding on the ground. He pulls out his knife and crouches next to you, to press it against your neck. You know he's threatening to kill you, even as his cum drips down your chin. 

You stare at him, uncaring. There's very little he can do to ruin you further. So you wait and the two of you stare at each other. A laugh comes from behind the mask, an actual laugh. Then he grabs your arm, forcing you to your feet, topless and all. He drags you past the hooks and out in the corn once more. You follow, stumbling and confused until you hear the call of the abyss. The hatch. He’s giving you the hatch. The realization leaves you confused.

He stops you in front of it, forcing you to kneel. He lifts your arms, making your shoulders cry out with pain. But you feel his knife glide between your wrists and suddenly you’re free. You rub your wrists and turn to look at him.

“Thanks-” You start but he shakes his head at you. You give him a confused look but don’t get to open your mouth again before his foot is planted in your back and he pushes - hard. You fly into the hatch screaming. 

You swear as you fall, you can hear Ghostface laughing.


	2. Fair is fair

You threw your head back in frustration, slamming your hand against your mattress. Chest heaving, covering in a light sweat, you’ve been trying to work out this… feeling. You know that you aren’t interested in fucking another survivor so you’ve been trying to just… fuck yourself. Try to make yourself cum so you can forget  _ his _ hands on you. Its easier said than done because every time you feel close enough to burst, its like something is stopping you.

In short, you’re frustrated.

You dress with still shaking legs, hating the fact that  _ he _ did this to you. He’s the reason you’re shivering and shuddering and desperately touching yourself after trials.

It’s been around ten or eleven trials since your encounter with Ghostface. You’ve looked for him, tried to find him in every trial since. Why? Because you’re mad. After the that particular trial, you ran to your cabin after to masturbate, even though you claimed that you were above the sexcapades of this place. Turns out, you just weren’t attracted to any of the other survivors.

Instead your dumbass is attracted to a killer who had cut you up, bound you and forced his dick into your mouth.

Maybe you’re an idiot, maybe you’re desperate. You’re not sure at this point and all you know is that you want to see Ghostface again, except this time, he’s going to make you cum. Maybe you’ll return the favor a second time, but honestly? You want him to know the frustration that he's putting you through. That’s fair? Right?

Then again, you doubt that Ghostface cares about  _ fair _ .

And how are you even going to find him? You haven’t seen him in a trial in a while and who knows where he sulks off to after trials? You know by talking to fellow survivors, mostly Meg who boasts as much as she blabs, that old Ghostie doesn’t have his own realm. There were a few others like that, but even they had realms that they tended to favor. Ghostface? Nobody knew where he fucked off to.

You chew on your lip as you think about it. Maybe you can get him to come to you?

Okay, that might be the stupidest plan to run through your brain but at the same time… Maybe…

Well, honestly, maybe not. You don’t even know where to begin. You curse, your body aching for the release you never got with Ghostface. There is nothing you can do for now, so you just try to forget him.

\---

Another day, another trial goes by and afterwards you find yourself wandering through the woods. You’re still trying to find a way to meet Ghostface. To get him to do what  _ you _ want. It almost feels like he's avoiding you on purpose. That's gotta be impossible and yet... You haven't seen him since that basement party he forced you into. Now you're left wondering if he just likes to cum and go.

As you wander, lost deeply in thought, you almost don’t notice how the squishy dirt of the forest turns into hard pavement. It’s sort of a hard thing to miss though. You stop, your breath catching in your throat as you realize you’re not in the forest anymore. You’ve stumbled into a realm. Haddonfield. The Shape’s realm.

It’s odd, for all the walks you’ve gone on, you’ve never found yourself anywhere but the forest itself. The Entity must be playing some kind of cruel joke or it’s been reading your mind. Doubtful. The Entity doesn’t seem to favor the survivors as much as the killers. You hesitate, before walking forward, figuring there must be some reason you’re here. You feel nervous and can’t help but slow as you see the rows of houses on either side of the street appear from the deep fog. How long had it been so foggy?

Just as you begin to question if you’ve gotten yourself in deeper than you meant, you see a black cloak hurrying away from you. You’d know that cloak anywhere considering it had been haunting your darkest fantasies. Maybe the Entity does like you if its tossing you a bone in the form of is favorite killer, Ghostface. He keeps going, not even hesitating in his step. He doesn't look around him, completely unaware that you're watching him.

Why would he? No survivors wandered into the realms of killers. He doesn't know you're here and it makes this perfect for you.

You follow, trying to be as quiet as possible. You watch from behind a car as he heads into one of the houses. It’s not the Myer’s house, you know that much. That house sits down the street, the jack-o-lantern sitting almost cheerfully on its porch. The house that Ghostface has slipped into is a different one. You follow, carefully climbing up the wooden steps to the porch, flinching when one lets out a large creak. You duck down under the window, but Ghostface doesn’t seem to notice or even care. In fact when you peek in the window, hes not in the front room. You figure he must have gone up the stairs.

Why is he even here?

You creep into the house and up the stairs, watching your step knowing that if the stairs creak, you'll be caught. You peek into the room nearest the stairs to find Ghostface, kneeling with something in his hand. His knife has been abandoned by his side, glinting in the dim lighting. You creep forward, praying that the boards don’t creak, slipping onto the floor behind him.

You reach out slowly, carefully, eyes on the figure in front of you the entire time. You wrap your fingers around the knife and drag it away from him just as he turns. You raise the knife to his throat, an action that's more instinct than anything.

You stare at each other for a long moment, you holding his own knife to his throat.

He slowly raises his hands, as if in surrender but you feel like its completely mocking. You know under his mask, he has to be laughing at you. He suddenly jerks towards the knife and you lurch backwards.

“ Don’t move! I’ll kill you!” You tell him, your voice just above a yell. Surprisingly it doesn’t shake and betray how afraid you are in that moment. He could kill you. He probably will. “Keep your hands up!”

You wait for him to jump you. He’s taller, stronger, he could snap you like a twig probably.

But surprisingly, he seems content to play your game. He lifts his gloved hands above his head, a ragged sigh sounding from beneath his mask, almost like he's annoyed. You’re confused but you adjust how you’re sitting, moving your legs under you so you can jump up if he makes a sudden move.

“ Take your… robe off,” You order, wondering if he’d actually listen.

He tilts his head but to your delight, he removes the robe – or whatever you think to call it. Underneath he’s wearing a long-sleeved black shirt. You suppose its smart, in case he ever had to shed the robes fast, he’d still be in dark colored clothing. But then again, you suppose that a serial killer with a legend like his has to be smart.

His hands return above his head, his gloves still on.

“ Take your gloves off,” You order next. Ghostface shakes his head, drawing a clear line in the sand. You chew on your lip, wondering why. “How about your mask then?”

His shoulders shake with silent laughter. He doesn’t move. You realize you’re losing control of the situation, quickly. Not that you’re really in control. Ghostface just seems to be humoring you more than anything. You have to get to what you came for.

You stand, walking to where he sits. You put a hand on his chest and push him backwards. Surprisingly he goes, letting you push him to the floor. You straddle his hips, your reoccurring fantasy flashing before your eyes, where you use him as he used you. You can hear his breathing through the mask, heavier than it was a moment ago. He knows what you want.

“ Can you at least pull the mask up?” You ask, fiddling with the knife almost nervously. He chuckles and reaches for the mask, but stops, glancing down at you. He pulls at the belt loops of your pants, as if urging you to take them off. It takes you a moment but you get it – he’ll only lift the mask if you undress.

A sense of bravery comes over you and you stand, forcing him to release you. You pull your shirt off, dropping it next to him and then slowly, as if you could tease him, unbutton your jeans. As you slide them off your body, you watch Ghostface shift between your legs, clearly enjoying the show. You barely get the jeans off when he pulls you back down, making your knees slam into the hardwood of the floor. You cry out in pain, the knife falling from your fingers.

He doesn’t seem to notice because he doesn’t reach for it. He just pulls you up and over his mask. You didn't see him roll it up, but you know he must because hes pulling you down onto his face, not waiting for you at all. You feel his tongue dive into your folds, his fingers digging into your bare hips mercilessly.

You grind down on his face, trying to gain a rhythm but Ghostface cares not for your wants, making a rhythm of his own. Honestly, it hardly matters. You’ve thought of this again and again and again. Your body is desperate for release and its so close.

You throw your head back, your hands in your own hair, pulling as you feel everything in you tighten, ready to explode.

“ Ghostface! I-I-” You try to stutter out a warning… but it turns out you have to reason to. Ghostface pushes you off his face, making you fall to the floor beside him, cutting you off from your orgasm. You reach for the knife, but he stops you, grabbing your arm and pulling you against him again. “I was so close!”

You’re in near tears from the frustration of it all. You look up at him to watch him lick his lips, savoring the taste of you. You can feel the bulge in his pants from where you are and it makes you  _ angry _ . He clearly just thinks this is a game.

Well, play stupid games, win stupid prizes as your parents always told you.

You stand up, pushing away from Ghostface. You reach for your panties first, furious that you came all this way to get denied. Before you can so much as touch them, you’re shoved forward onto the dirty mattress lying in the room. You barely catch yourself, landing hard on your knees again. At least this time the mattress keeps them from being bruised further.

You yell wordlessly with frustration and anger. You’re actually  _ angry _ at this killer for doing this to you! It gives you a boost of courage and you try to yank yourself from his grip. He seems to realize how angry you are though and his hand wraps around your throat. You gasp as the leather clad hand squeezes, a glint of silver catching your eye. His knife. He has the knife. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

Anger is replaced by panic and he holds the knife against your cheek. The cold metal makes you gasp and you try to lean away from it. The hand on your throat prevents that, even as he snuggles his body right up to yours. You can feel his clothed cock twitching against your ass and you’re wondering if he’s just going to torture you further or…

The knife drops to the ground and his hand tightens on your throat, as if warning you from doing anything stupid. Message loud and clear. You nod, just once, so he can feel the tilt of your head, your silent agreement.

You hear the pull of a zipper and your legs shake. You’re getting a whole lot more than you bargained for. You honestly didn’t even  _ think _ he’d bother to actually fuck you. Honestly, why would a killer want anything from a survivor? You’re just meat to be chewed up and spat out by the entity and yet-

“ Danny,” You try to turn your head when he speaks. He hold you still, making you turn away again. “My name.”

You’re still chewing on this piece of information, when he enters you without warning, bottoming out in the first thrust. You throw your head back with a gasp of shock that turns to a whimper of pleasure. His hand doesn’t leave your throat, instead squeezing as if to remind you of your place.

His other leather-clad hand is on your hip, encouraging you to meet him half way with his thrusts. Honestly, you don’t need the encouragement, not really. You’re more than happy to do all the work, even as he sets a ruthless pace that has you slowly lurching forward, giving him a better angle without even trying.

What you don’t expect is for him to take his hand off your throat and pushes you so your face smashes into the mattress. You have a feeling that even if you had been on the floor, he wouldn’t have cared. He keeps your hips angled upwards, so your ass is unceremoniously in the air, his thrusts not slowing in the slightest, even as he adjusts you.

You hold onto the mattress, Ghostface – Danny, you remind yourself, his name is Danny – nearly fucks you right into the wall. He's not gentle, but you’re not surprised, he really wasn’t before. You don’t mind, not really. You already see stars flashing behind your eyes. You were already so close, closer than you’ve been in days.

“ _ Fuck _ \- Danny, I-” Your words cut off because Ghostface takes the invitation to grab a handful of your hair and pull it, making your head snap back. It must have been a distraction because his knife is suddenly dragged across your side. You don’t feel the pain of it, just feel the blood running down your side. The knife is dropped again and he runs his gloved hand against your bloodied side. You know what comes next without watching and you're vaguely aware that you're begging him to.

Your orgasm hits you as his wet tongue runs across your bloody cut. Your entire body tightens and comes undone, your vision flashing as you arch into his touch, choking on a harsh gasp. Your hands clench into fists and your toes spread, legs jerking, as if trying to trap Ghostface, never let him stop fucking you. Honestly you could die like this. If he wanted to kill you by fucking you every single trial, his knife buried to the hilt your back, you'd let him. You'd _enjoy_ it.

As you come down, you realize that his thrusts have become almost gentle - almost. You turn your head to look at him, which easier said than done since he's still got a fistful of your hair. You still catch sight of his amused smile, right before he pulls out of you with a wet  _ pop. _ He lets go of your hair to put both hands on your hips and flip you, dropping you onto the mattress once more.

You don’t even have time to ask him what he's doing before he's thrusting into you once more. He leans forward so he can pin your arms to the mattress above your head. You’re still reeling from your orgasm and don't even fight him, just look up at him, squirming beneath him. He’s close, you know, his hips slamming against yours ruthlessly and you’re not sure you’re going to be able to walk out of here - or walk at all. 

His mask is still rolled up enough that you can see his mouth, see how he's gritting his teeth. Sweat rolls down his cheek from beneath the mask. 

He groans, low and deep and his thrusts become erratic. You lock one of your legs around his hip, latching to him, overwhelmed by the feeling building in your guts once more. You press your head back against the mattress.

“Ghostface p-please, please I-” You start before you words cut off into an indistinguishable cry of pleasure. You’re so caught up in your own that you barely hear Ghostface let out a sharp gasp, nearly stilling inside you. His face presses against your neck, his hands gripping your wrists so hard you're almost afraid he might break them. But his grip loosens, his hands running down your arms as he sits up.

As you both come down, panting, sweaty and unsure, you look up at him. He's still catching his breath and seems to take your eyes on him as an order. He pulls away from you, standing and tucking his soft cock back into his pants. You lay on the soiled mattress, unsure of what happens now, wondering if your legs can support you. You fidget for a moment, not even looking at him, which is why its a surprise when he throws your clothes at you. 

You look at him and stand, pulling your shirt on first.

“Thank you,” You start, “For not killing me, after.” 

He laughs and begins to pull his robes on. Wow, you must be a real comedian. Not even a comment after. 

“Hey, wait a minute,” You shake out your pants, knowing your panties were still with them. Or maybe… You glance around the room. Ghostface has his back to you, innocently adjusting the buckles on his robes. He didn’t- no. He wouldn't. “Ghostface… Danny, give them back.”

The killer turns to look at you, pulling his mask back down over his face as he does. He doesn’t answer you and you roll your eyes.

“Fine, keep them, pervert.”

“You can’t prove I’ve done anything,” He says and you know he’s grinning beneath the mask. His hands smooth over his robes and he turns away from you. You pull your pants on, standing on shaky legs. You walk over to him without falling on your face so that's a plus at least. 

“Do you regret… this?” You ask, almost hesitantly. 

“No,” His answer is quick and serious. Then there's a pause. “Maybe.”

You don't like that answer but can't really name why. 

“Let’s just get you home,” He doesn’t even look at you, breezing out of the room. You timidly follow, unsure of what happens next. He said that he might regret what just happened. You search yourself for a hint of regret - he is a killer after all and he has killed you in the past - but there's none. You don’t regret it. You'd do it all again without hesitation. 

But as you follow Ghostface out the house and into the fog, you wonder if you’ll ever see him again.

With his answer... you can't imagine that you will.


End file.
